


Movie Night

by maximum_overboner



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Crying, Fluffy, Heats, Hitting, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Papyrus is a sinnamon roll power bottom, all consensual, ambiguous reader, dirty talking, smutfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximum_overboner/pseuds/maximum_overboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It turns out Monsters have heats, and they have an unfortunate habit of sneaking up on you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> literally the most self indulgent thing i have ever, ever written. i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

  “SO! WHAT FILMS ARE WE WATCHING? THERE’S SO MUCH HUMAN MEDIA TO CONSUME!”

  “I’m thinking Titanic.”

  “WHAT’S THAT?”

  “It’s about a big boat. A very, very big boat.”

  “THE SORT THAT GO IN THE OCEAN?”

  “Yes.”

  “WOWIE!”

  He trilled in delight, throwing himself backwards onto the couch. Sans had vacated the premises to give you two space, shuffling off to Grillby’s with a knowing nod, understanding entirely what your intentions were. You had decided not to tell him that it was Papyrus that was generally more ‘hands-on’, as you rightfully feared both explosions and being murdered. You were prudish like that. He was wearing his casual clothes, a tight shirt that framed his broad shoulders and sunk where his abdomen would be. Occasionally, in quiet moments, you would dip your hands into the gap, swirl the fabric under your fingers, and ask him how he ticked. He needed to eat three meals a day to live, like anyone else, but the functions associated with it were absent. He would only sleep when he was tired, that is to say, he would only sleep after exercise, and even then never for more than a few hours. He would lay in bed with you, poking your fleshy bits in amazement until you dozed, nestled in your hair, your skin. But eventually he would peel himself away to do other things. He could have sex, could magic up all of the necessary parts, but those would vanish if not needed. It was bizarre, and genuinely fascinating to watch. In an especially bold move, you had once lifted his shirt in the middle of a meal as he choked and blustered just to see what went on, prodding at his ribs, because the idea of food being totally absorbed was just so alien to you. You had tugged on his spine gently in the flurry, and he let out a strangled moan before bolting to his room, mortified.

  It was then you learned that bones could be stimulated, and thus it was not appropriate to unintentionally fondle him at the dinner table in front of all of his friends. He had forgiven you immediately, knowing it was a misunderstanding. But you still hadn’t lived it down.

  Despite being an open book, he was very much an enigma, but did not carry with him the unsettling atmosphere most mysteries inspired. In a dull sense, from the perspective of an outsider, he was horrifying, a literal personification of death; stark white bones that clicked constantly, always drawing attention. He was more to you. He was sweet. He was brash. He was kind. His thought patterns were strange; he was not slow, but he was offbeat. He was more vulnerable than he let on, every action subtly framed to inspire approval from the people around him. He liked the attention. You were more than happy to lavish him, despite his odd tendencies.

  He listened to ‘COOL NEW HUMAN MUSIC, BY WHICH I MEAN OLD MUSIC THAT I’M HEARING FOR THE FIRST TIME’, and would dance around the house as he cleaned, or cooked. He had taken to black metal. It’s ‘SKELETON-POSITIVE’, apparently.

  Movie nights had become a weekly thing, an occasion to look forward to. It was an excuse for you to watch the old classics, and an excuse to watch his unsullied reactions to films you had seen over and over again. When you had watched Star Wars together and Darth Vader revealed his role Papyrus had almost feinted. ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN _JESUS DIES?_ ’ was another one that would stick in your memory forever.

  “That’s my pick, what’s yours?”

  You saw him dig through the pile, swaying his hips to the tune in his head. “UH, HMM, I’M NOT SURE. HOW ABOUT...” He picked up a random one, squinting. “... THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE? I’M ASSUMING THE TITLE IS A METAPHOR.”

  “It is not.”

  “... HOW MASSACRE-Y IS IT? I CAN HANDLE DEATH IN FILMS, BUT IF IT’S TOO GRAPHIC I GET UPSET.”

  “It’s the massacre-y-ist.”

  “PERHAPS NOT, THEN.”

  He hummed in thought, cutely. Even when he was mulling something, he felt he need to put on a show. “WELL, YOU’RE STAYING OVER, AREN’T YOU?” He prodded, face tinging.

  “I am.”

  He scratched at the back of his head, flushing. “I HAVE PLENTY OF TIME TO DECIDE THEN!” He laughed bashfully, before pulling out his phone, quickly checking his messages.

  “UNDYNE TEXTED ME ABOUT SETTING HER BATH ON FIRE. I JUST TOLD HER I’M BUSY! AND INTRIGUED, BECAUSE I THOUGHT THAT WAS IMPOSSIBLE. BUT I’M MORE BUSY THAN INTRIGUED, SO YOU HAVE WON MY COMPANY FOR ANOTHER DAY!” He pumped his fist. “CONGRATULATIONS!” He cast his eyes to the screen once again, and his face locked, still holding his comical pose. You leaned forward, worried.

  “What’s up?”

  “IT’S THE SIXTEENTH. TODAY.”

  “Yeah.”

  “OF THIS MONTH.”

  “As opposed to the fortieth of the next, yes.”

  “OH BOY. I, UM. ALRIGHT.” He coughed, the thought of watching films now pushed out of your mind. He bobbed his leg, unsure of how to proceed.

  “Is everything alright?”

  “S-SO, I UM... HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MONSTERS?”

  You blinked. “Just what you’ve told me.”

  “SO YOU HAVEN’T DECIDED TO DO SOME SNOOPING, EITHER IN TEXTBOOKS, OR ON SAUCY WEBSITES?”

  “You mean porn sites?”

  “THAT’S WHAT I SAID, SAUCY WEBSITES! HONESTLY. WELL THERE’S, UH, A THING THAT HAPPENS. IT SORT OF CREPT UP ON ME, BUT IT’S, YOU KNOW...” He squeaked out the answer, mortified. “MY CYCLE.”

  You were completely lost, and answered before you could think. “... You’re... You’re menstruating?”

  You saw him pause, gesture incredulously with his arms, his mind briefly shutting down. “... WHAT? HOW WOULD I EVEN-- NO! NO, I’M NOT.”

  “You’re about to start?”

  “I FEEL LIKE THERE ARE KEY COMPONENTS YOU ARE OVERLOOKING, BUT I’M GOING TO MOVE ON, BECAUSE THAT ISN’T A THING THAT CAN HAPPEN.” He clicked his fingers, wringing his hands, the sound like pebbles against a hard floor. “I-IT’S A HEAT.”

  You looked at him blankly, disbelieving. “You have heats? That’s incredibly implausible! Why would Monsters ever need heats--?”

  “I DON’T KNOW! I DO NOT KNOW! ALL I KNOW IS THAT EVERY YEAR OR SO I NEED TO LOCK MYSELF AWAY OR RISK, I DON’T KNOW, STUBBING MYSELF AGAINST A WALL BECAUSE OF MY PERMANENT--”

  “Has that ever happened?”

  “NO, THANK GOD. I WOULD WINCE SO HARD THAT THE FORCE WOULD PULL ALL OF MY BONES INTO THEMSELVES IN A HORRIFYING, BONER-BASED BLACK HOLE. THE WORST KIND.”

  “Aren’t all black holes terrible?”

  “TRUE, BUT THIS ONE INVOLVES MAIMING BEFOREHAND. IMPORTANT.” You saw him compose himself, putting his train of thought back on track. “I NEED TO FOCUS, SORRY.”

  You were both slumped on the couch, you on one end, him on the other, leaning away from you as if he were disgusting. You scooted next to him, closing the gap, throwing your arms around him in support, face wedged under his arm. You breathed in his smell. You would steal his shirt when this was over, you swore to yourself. He embraced you fully, his bashfulness falling away at the contact.

  “BUT THE, UH, THING IS... I-I CAN’T REALLY, UM, HELP MYSELF. I’M WORRIED I WOULD BE TOO ROUGH WITH YOU--”

  You perked up, looking at him.

  “--BECAUSE SOMETIMES THESE CAN LAST FOR HOURS, HOURS AND HOURS OF HARD, ROUGH, W-WET SEX--”

  Your breathing picked up, warmth pooling tightly in your groin.

  “--WITH _BITING_ AND _CLAWING_ AND _RUTTING_ , IT’S SO UNDIGNIFIED, LIKE AN ANIMAL--”

  You leaned in further, stroking his rib under his shirt. He carried on, as if he were warning you about something horrifying. “SO IF THAT DOESN’T APPEAL TO YOU, WHICH I UNDERSTAND, YOU’RE MORE THAN WELCOME TO STAY, BUT I’LL BE IN MY ROOM--”

  You pulled him into a kiss, panting. He finally caught on, hands resting on your waist.

  “OH. _OH._ WELL, THAT WASN’T INTENDED TO BE STIMULATING, BUT I’M NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN!” He kissed your neck affectionately, and it tickled. He stopped himself before he became lost in the motions, before he escalated naturally.

  “IT’S PROBABLY BEST THAT YOU TIE ME UP WHEN IT STARTS. WHICH WILL PROBABLY BE... SOON? MINUTES, MAYBE, IT HITS LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN TO THE GROIN. BUT A SEXY ONE, INSTEAD OF BEING A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT.”

  You laughed good-naturedly, preparing yourself. “Is... Is this some elaborate way to say you want some bondage action? Because you don’t need to make up this--”

  “BOY OH BOY IS IT NOT. I START THRASHING AFTER THE FOURTH ORGASM.”

  You blinked. “Fourth? Fourth? In the same session?”

  “IN A LIGHT ONE, YES. IT’S A HEAT! IT’S FOR PROCREATION! IT’S NOT MY FAULT I END UP SPORTING A PERMANENT, WELL--”

  “I thought only dogs and stuff went into heat,” you mused, teasing him, groping at his pelvis. He yelped.

  “D-DON’T BE PREJUDICED. I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS BEST THAT YOU KNOW NOW, SO YOU CAN CHOOSE TO DUCK OUT, RATHER THAN BE GREETED WITH ME VAULTING AT YOU LIKE AN OLYMPIAN, BONER IN HAND.”

  “I’m in. You’ve sold me. I’m in.”

  His glee was difficult to hide, whole body shaking as he began blabbing out plans, spitting out his thoughts as soon as he composed them. “I SUPPOSE I’M A LITTLE LUCKY I CAUGHT YOU RIGHT NOW, RATHER THAN JUST THROWING MYSELF AT YOU IN THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT. NO MATTER HOW MUCH I BEG YOU TO STOP, WHICH I PROBABLY WILL, AT SOME POINT... UH, PLEASE DON’T. I MEAN IT.”

  You pulled away, looking at him, concerned. “But what happens if you... Actually want to stop?”

  “I WON’T.”

  You shifted on the seat, not wanting to hurt him, “That’s... I appreciate that, but--”

  “MY SAFEWORD IS ‘AVOCADO’, BECAUSE THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH... YOU KNOW. ALL OF THIS. WHEN IT STARTS I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING BUT SEX, IT’S AWFUL!”

  “’Avocado’ means ‘testicle’, you know.”

  “OH MY GOD,” he shouted, hands clamped to his face, “ _IT’S HAPPENING ALREADY._ ” He stood up hurriedly, not accounting for the weight you were putting on him, and you tumbled into the warm spot he once occupied. He turned to you, whipping himself into a frenzy as you looked on bemusedly, having settled into your new spot. “PLEASE STAY THERE UNTIL I’M READY, I HAVE PREPARATIONS TO MAKE.”

  With a glance, as if he didn’t know what he was doing, he began bounding up the stairs, two at a time, his long legs carrying him effortlessly.

  “How will I know when it starts?”

  He stopped, stock still, foot hovering in the air. “ _YOU WILL KNOW WHEN IT STARTS_ ,” he lilted, before resuming his run.

  You sighed, eager, before sitting up on the couch. You did not mind waiting.

 

* * *

 

  It had only been ten minutes, and you were tapping away at your phone when it happened.

  You saw the door to his bedroom creak open and Papyrus was hunched in the doorway, furiously fucking himself, looking you up and down, thin trails of hot cum sliding down his cock as he pumped unevenly. His eyes were lidded, completely unfocused on looking dignified.

  You stared back, stunned. You had expected him to come get you, rather than start alone.

  He looked manic, still pumping, still talking, stuttering in time with his jerks. “S-SORRY, SORRY, I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, BUT IT WAS SO SUDDEN AND I CAN’T, I C-CAN’T HELP MYSELF, IT--”

  He whined, arching his back, still working, still speaking.

  “I T-TRIED USING THE PILLOW, T-TO HELP, SO I COULD FEEL SOMETHING, B-BECAUSE I JUST CAN’T STOP--”

  “How many times have you--?”

  “THREE! THREE! OH GOD, OH GOD--”

  He squealed, cumming into his closed fist, the volume of it forcing the liquid between the gaps in his fingers. He propped himself against the doorframe, watching it trickle onto the wooden floor of the hallway in a distant, vacant sense of disgust.

  “... FOUR. UM, SORRY ABOUT THE FLOOR. YOU SHOULD MIND YOUR STEP. I-I’LL CLEAN THAT UP WHEN I’M DONE.”

  “How long do these last?”

  “IT’S NOT REALLY A TIME THING, MORE... SOMETHING I NEED TO GET OUT OF MY SYSTEM. WHEN IT’S OVER, IT’S OVER. UNTIL IT ROLLS AROUND AGAIN. D-DO YOU STILL WANT TO HELP?”

  You nodded, jaw open, and the his relief was almost palpable.

  With that he began trotting back through to his bedroom, and you eagerly followed suit, scrambling up the stairs. You saw the towel on the bed, saw him slam the door shut behind you, saw him march towards you with a glint in his eye, one you had never seen before. You had seen his innocent features warped in lust. You had never seen him _ravenous_.

  With no restraint he picked you up and threw you on the racecar bed with one arm, skittering over and throwing himself on top of you. His hands found your hips, then ghosted over your skin, up and down. He tugged firmly at your shirt, at your pants.

  “ _OFF._ ”

  You obliged, throwing your shirt to the floor with a soft thud, the rest of your clothes quickly following suit until you were left totally naked in front of him, his wet cock peeping out over his pants.

  “What do you want to do?” You breathed.

  His domineering mood snapped in half immediately, the sound of your voice bringing him crashing back to reality, heaving but aware.

  “CAN YOU, UM... TOUCH ME? MAYBE? THAT WOULD BE NICE.”

  You skipped the middle-man and jerked on his cock, far more firmly than he would generally allow. He caved, collapsing onto his elbows above you. You jerked at his shaft, already heaving with thick cum, and pumped decisively, sorely, every spasm of pain driving him wild. There was no way he could last.

  “ _PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE_ \--”

  You watched with awe as Papyrus, prideful, bashful Papyrus, came completely undone under the sickening heat, rutting into your palm so hard that it was painful for the both of you. With a low, wet cry he came, his cock throbbing in your hand, shuddering.

  His mouth was hung open as he processed the come-down, erection bobbing with every movement. Without thinking, he took your hand, looking you dead in the eye, and licked a long bead of cum from it, the motions making your breath hitch. His tongue traveled up your arm, teeth scraping you and leaving welts, before he pulled you into a ravenous, salty kiss. His mouth was pressed to yours, tongue swirling firmly, unevenly, as if trying to find purchase, pressing into your groin. His scarf slipped from his neck, floating onto you, tickling you. You picked it up, motioning to hook it over his neck once again. His face lit up as if he had just witnessed the conception of the greatest idea in the world. He pointed to his eyes.

  “OH GOD, OH GOD YES, THAT’S SUCH A GOOD IDEA, DO IT DO IT _DO IT!_ ”

  That... Wasn’t what you were doing, but it seemed fun. It was a bonus, at least.

  You pushed gently on his chest, motioning for him to perch on his knees, and you sat up in turn, tying the scarf around his eyes. He couldn’t stop groping you, probing and tugging and thrusting, desperately trying to receive at least some kind of stimulation. The scarf was tied, and he couldn’t see. He heard the jingle of your belt as you picked it up off of the carpet, having hastily discarded it, and he groaned in anticipation. You knew belts caused abrasions in soft, human flesh. You imagined bone would cope well, at least for one session. He thrust his arms behind himself, pelvis twitching, aching to be touched. You wrapped his wrists in his leather, and went to secure them, but were cut off by his voice.

  “TIGHTER.”

  “I thought the bondage was necessary?” You teased.

  “IT IS. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOT BEING FUN.”

  You pulled tighter until he gasped in blighting, wonderful pain, thrusting his cock to draw your attention to it.

  “C’MON,” he pleaded, entirely at your mercy, “PLEASE.”

  You answered, grabbing his cock from behind him, using the same motions he would. He squealed, as if he had never been touched before, slamming his entire body back into yours, craning his long neck. He leaned back to kiss you, and you returned it, tongue probing his mouth, wet and sloppy and desperate. He finally snapped.

  “CALL ME A SLUT,” he begged, desperate for release.

  You were five seconds away from laughing, you just knew it, but you couldn’t, and so decided to roll with it. This sort of thing was up your alley anyway. You dipped close to his face, pulling your hand away from his cock to tease him. “Slut.”

  He was left panting, gasping, whining, his shirt soaked with sweat, head darting from left to right. He dipped his pelvis down to fuck the bed, aching for feeling, for that white-hot release, his body demanding it even if his higher functions were mortified. You decided to put him out of his misery. You spread your legs, letting his restrained hands touch you, his clumsy fingers desperately groping at you until they finally, if awkwardly, stimulated your sweet spot. You moaned into his ear, and it was too much all at once.

  A ropy stream of cum hit the inside of your hand as you worked him once again. You went to pull away, to give him time to rest, but his high, angry whines when you did so discouraged you.

  “You’re still good to go?”

  He nodded enthusiastically, shuddering.

  You worked your way back to his front, slipping your legs over his, letting his cock grind teasingly against your entrance. He bucked up, but couldn’t slip in you, couldn’t quite manage it.

  “OHH GOD, STEP ON ME,” he barked, “PUNCH ME IN THE FACE!”

  You balked. That had come out of nowhere. “Are you sure--?”

  “ _JUST DO IT, IT’S FINE._ ”

  You slapped him, gently.

  “HARDER!”

  You slapped him so hard your palm hurt, the surface of his face like stone against your soft flesh.

  “HARDER, HARDER!”

  You slapped him in the point where his mandible connected to his skull, knowing it to be especially sensitive, fascinated with the way things were proceeding.

  “HARDER,” he screeched, spurting hot fluid against your front, manic. “DAMN IT, _HARDER!_ ”

  You reared your open palm back before hitting him, truly, giving him what he had begged for. He gasped, tensing up, and for a second you were worried that he wanted to stop.

  “THANK YOU,” he grovelled, loving every second, “GOD ALMIGHTY, _THANK YOU._ ”

  Papyrus, uh... Was apparently into some kinky shit that he had never thought to bring up. Huh. He was going to be mortified when this was over, you knew it.

  You slipped yourself down on him teasingly, sighing as he just entered you, having kicked his legs outward to give you some balance. All at once, you slowly pulled him out, and he exited with a gentle popping noise and a plea. He piped up again.  
  
  “CHOKE ME UNTIL I PASS OUT THEN RIDE ME LIKE A SHOW-PONY IN SOME KIND OF HORRIFYING SEX-CARNIVAL!”

  You drew the line. “I’m... I’m not doing that one.”

  “YOU KNOW WHAT? THAT’S FAIR.”

  You gently slipped him inside again, stretching to accommodate his cock before he finally broke.

  He thrust his entire body upwards in a lunge, convulsing in his bonds. He was weeping, thrusting so quickly, so firmly, that it was on the precipice of being painful, and you yelled. You looked, to check he was alright, but you noticed he was gritting his teeth, face contorted in ecstasy as he was ruthlessly overstimulated again and again and again, agony, but too good to stop.

  “I CAN’T KEEP GOING,” he sniffed, “I CAN’T, MY BODY, I-I CAN’T STAND TO, I CAN’T--”

  You stayed still, waiting for the safeword. It never came. You resumed, both arms secured onto his shoulders.

  “S-STOP, STOP, I’M SENSITIVE--”

  You sped up, face buried in his shoulder as you fucked yourself upon him, hearing his high, wet gasps that sat thickly in his maw before trickling out. He was sobbing, convulsing, his head thrashing from side to side.

  “S-STOP, IT HURTS, IT HURTS!”

  In and out; slickly, wetly, firmly, the sensation of his cum in you spurring you on, the most natural motions in the world. Again, no safeword. Finding purchase was difficult, now that he was kicking his legs, the bedsprings screeching underneath your movements, topped in volume only by his pleas. You threw your head back; heard the jostling of your belt against his wrists as he strained, heard the faint ruffling of his scarf as he moved, heard the slick, lewd sound of firm bones against your soaked flesh, building and building to form a heated cacophony that forced a tenseness in your groin. His sob slipped into a whine, that slipped into a high, desperate laugh, and from that you could tell he was close again. You slammed yourself down upon him, whispering encouragement, and he keened into you, blindfold itching at his eyes. His gasps were heaving, and you saw tears stain his scarf, the liquid jostling as he bucked.

  You heard a snap, saw the tattered leather of your belt out of the corner of your lidded eyes, too far gone to question it, only coming back to your senses when you felt Papyrus grip your hips hard enough to pierce your skin, felt the blood trickle wonderfully down your thighs as he pushed you off, moaned as he crammed you back onto his aching cock. He huffed, growling a low, foreign sound, in a register you didn’t know his voice could dip to.

  “ _DON’T STOP._ ”

  He pressed your forehead to yours, the romantic action in contrast to the ruthless fucking.

  “Slut.”

  He moaned into his tombstone teeth, hissing with every breath.

  You slowed down before stopping entirely, and you were sure he was going to shout at you, throw some kind of tantrum. “Say it.”

  He sobbed, hiccuped, desperate. “P-PLEASE, I’M SO CLOSE, I-I’M--”

  “Say it.”

  “I-I’M A SLUT, PLEASE, PLEASE KEEP GOING, I-I’M A SLUT--”

  You crammed yourself down upon him, your orgasm hitting and rolling across you, back and forth, back and forth like a tide, the clenching softness of your insides pulling at his cock until he came as well. He slurred out pleas, thank you’s, begging for more, to be touched, to be hit again, to cum again; over and over and over and over. All at once, he stopped, slumped over in you, his limbs going totally slack as he rested his head on your shoulder. The feeling of sweat on his shirt pulling him back to reality. He took his scarf off, before peeling off his shirt.

  “OH, EWW. GROSS.”

  You laughed affectionately. “You draw the line at sweat?”

  He sniffed, the last vestiges of tears working their way out of him. “I DO.”

  You writhed on him, spent, but curious, and he yelped loudly. “Are you done?”  
  
  “I-I NEED TO G-GET A TOWEL, AND THROW IT IN, BECAUSE I THINK I’M DONE. IF I DO THAT ANY MORE I THINK I WILL LITERALLY DIE. WOW, THESE ALWAYS TAKE A LOT OUT OF ME.”

  You slid off him gently, kissing the sore spot on his face. “Can skeletons bruise?”

  He averted his gaze immediately, eyes wide, fully realizing the orders he had barked at you when he was maddened with lust. “N-NO. I’M, U-UM... NO.” He tittered bashfully. He kissed you softly, sweetly, gently. He fell back onto the bed, glowing, looking _supremely_ satisfied, too exhausted to think coherently, too doped up on afterglow to do anything but laugh, giggles that bubbled and rose from his ribs. He held his arms open, and you took the embrace, choosing to fall back with him. He bopped you on the forehead, his figure dwarfing yours, before giving you a smooch, using one of his hands to push the last of the tears from his eyes.

  “THAT WAS _AMAZING._ USUALLY I’M STUCK WITH JUST MY LEFT HAND AND UNDERNET FOR HEATS, I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED ONE WITH ANOTHER PERSON BEFORE! WOWIE!”

  You saw him reach under the bed, long arm dipping off the edge, and pull out an unopened bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and chugged it, before handing it to you. You took a drink as well.

  “I thought you didn’t know your heat was today?”

  “I DIDN’T.”

  “Then what’s with the water?”

  “OH, I ALWAYS HAVE A FEW UNDER HERE. DEHYDRATION IS A CONSTANT RISK, YOU KNOW.” You saw an idea cross his mind, his expressions easily readable. He dipped back to look under his bed, pulling out a small box. It was filled with fresh fruit. How often did he replenish this thing? He handed you an apple, not noticing the thin veneer of cum his hand left on it. You winced.

  “I... Don’t think I want the apple.”

  “IT’S GOOD FOR YOU! DOCTORS HATE THEM, FOR SOME REASON? I’M PRETTY SURE I JUST PLUNGERED ALL OF THE FLUIDS OUT OF YOU, SO--”

  You broke down, laughing. “Plungered?”

  He looked confused. “IS THAT NOT ACCURATE? I FEEL LIKE IT’S ACCURATE. HOW ABOUT ‘SCRAPED’? ‘SHOVELED’?”  
  
  “Please stop!”

  He put the apple away. “VACUUMED?”

  You cackled. He looked offended, although the majority of his expressions were just various levels of offence altered to suit his purposes. He was quite serious in his silliness.

  You heard the front door open downstairs, heard Sans plod in after what you assumed to be a heavy meal. Papyrus raised his head, bones heavy, scooted down the bed and shut the door to his room with a firm ‘click’. He sighed, settling back into his position, planting slow, soft kisses. Pillow talk was the best part. Post-heat pillow talk was going to be exquisite.

  “HE WON’T PEEP HIS HEAD IN IF THE DOOR’S SHUT, OR HE’LL KNOCK. HE DOESN’T SNOOP, IT’S GREAT!”

  You heard Sans trudge up the stairs, and an odd look came over Papyrus, his eyes narrowing.

  “I FEEL LIKE I’VE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING.”

  He huffed in thought before rocketing up with panicked speed, yanking the bedsheet off of you to cover his groin, running to the door, screeching. “OH GOD, SANS, THE FLOOR, _THE FLOOR!_ ”

  You heard a heavy thud outside, heard Sans’ slip on the wet patch, heard him clatter to the ground. He grumbled, taking a second. What had he just slipped in? You were tucked to the wall, not wanting him to see you.

  “what the hell, what-- oh my god, _oh my god!_ **papyrus! what the fuck, dude?** ”

  “SANS, OH GOD, I’M SO SORRY, I’M COMING, I’M COMING!”

  “that was the problem in the first place, papyrus! holy fuck, i-- _goddamn, ugh!_ ”

  You settled back into the bed, listening to them arguing. 


End file.
